


He's not Here

by Darcyshire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Next to Normal - Kitt/Yorkey
Genre: Also no singing, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Delusions, Depression, Drug Use, F/F, M/M, May have a happy ending. Depends on the mood I'm in, Medication, Metal Illnesses, Next to Normal AU, Over all a very sad fic, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darcyshire/pseuds/Darcyshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Under Constriction - rewriting and/or continuing it)</p><p>Who was really the crazy one here? Half the time, Combeferre felt like it was him. He was crazy for hoping, crazy for thinking this would all go away one day and the old Enjolras would sweet through the door with a bright smile and fiery eyes once more. Yet Combeferre couldn’t fool himself.</p><p> That was almost twenty years ago. That Enjolras was long gone. He had slowly left, eyes fading, voice dropping until nothing remained except a hollowed out shell of who he used to be.</p><p>Next to Normal AU where Enjolras is the Bipolar Depressive, Combeferre tries to keep everything (including his marriage) from falling apart and Eponine is just trying to hold on for another day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Seems to Be a Perfectly Normal Family

**Author's Note:**

> I have most of this written already, so I'll update frequently throughout the week. I'm going to try to get it all up before the end of the month because after that exams start. 
> 
> Also, Disclaimer: Anything you recognize does not belong to me. Next to Normal belongs to Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey. Characters belong to Victor Hugo. Anything representing mental illnesses in this fic is not a professional statement as I only have my own experience and what is seen in the show to help me out.
> 
> So, buckle your seatbelts and enjoy the ride

“You’re late.”

The dark haired man cracked a smile, setting his bag down quietly next to the door. “Busses ran late, Enjolras.” He replied easily, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck.

“It’s the third time this week.” Enjolras snapped, getting up from his spot at the bar to snap the kitchen light, flooding the small space with light. The man flinched, scrubbing a calloused hand over his face. His nose was red from the cold and Enjolras almost smiled at the sight. He had two-day stubble clinging to his neck, because he refused to shave before he hit a three-day mark.

“Ok, I get it.” He mumbled. “But I’m a big boy, Enjolras. I can handle myself. I didn’t want to worry you with my trivial traveling problems.” He waggled his eyebrows, moving in to press a kiss to his temple.

Enjolras dodged the kiss, pressing his lips together in a firm, straight line. “Have you been drinking?!” he growled, inspecting the man closely, eyes narrowing.

“Not recently!” the man exclaimed, throwing his hands up, annoyance flashing across his face. “Really, Enjolras, you gotta learn to trust me.” He took Enjolras’s hand in his, cupping his jaw in another, tilting his head to peer down at him. His eyes were a shocking blue, something that surprised Enjolras no matter how many times he’s looked into them. It was like staring into the night sky. Full of wonder and beauty and intelligence.

Enjolras frowned, shaking his head. “Grantaire, I do trust you it’s just – “

“Enjolras?” a voice came from down the hallway followed by a thin strip of light as a door opened. Grantaire jumped, letting Enjolras go as he moved to hide beside fridge. Enjolras smirked. If Combeferre knew how late Grantaire had come home he would have his ass for sure.

“Are you alright out here?” his voice was rough with sleep, bedhead visible from where Enjolras sat at the bar, glasses just barely hanging off the tip of his nose.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Enjolras said, giving the man a small smile before moving to glance at Grantaire who was still hiding out of sight beside the fridge. Combeferre nodded, murmuring something about not staying up too late before shutting the door.

As soon as the door shut, Enjolras’ smile vanished, eyes snapping towards the fridge where Grantaire lay hidden “You!” he growled, pointing a finger at the dark haired man. “You owe me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Apollo.” Grantaire said in a low voice. “I’ll pay you back.”  Enjolras shivered, at the promise in the man’s voice, ducking his head as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. When he looked back up to saying something else, Grantaire was gone, no doubt off to get ready for bed before Combeferre noticed what time it was. _Serves him right, the bastard._

He was about to snap the lights off when he turned to see a dark haired figure making their way through the shadows of the hallway, deliberately stepping so the floors wouldn’t creak.

“Eponine?” Enjolras called. The shadow froze, confirming Enjolras’ suspicions. “Eponine, what are you doing up? It’s two in the morning.” Eponine had always been a nightcrawler. Staying up into the dead of night had always been her way. Combeferre would find her reading under her covers at four-thirty or Enjolras would find her in the kitchen at one in the morning making something to eat. She yawned as she neared, brushing a few scraggly brown locks from her eyes.

“I just couldn’t sleep,” she said, sitting down at the bar, propping her face up on her hand. She looked worn out and positively strained. Her eyes were dark, dark circles forming beneath them as if they were a reminder to the world of how much sleep she had gotten: none. She always got this way around exam time, barely sleeping, always studying. She started the bad habit when she started exams in middle school, living on caffeine and two hours of sleep until exams were over. Something Enjolras used to do when he was her age.

“Just stressed. It’s my last year and all and all the exams are just stressing me out.“

“Slow down,” Enjolras cut her off, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Try not to freak. You’ll get through it. Now, I’m off to have sex with Combeferre. Goodnight!” he called, laughing at her sickened expression.

She glared at the door as it shut, anger coursing through her. He always did that. It’s like he never wanted to listen or had something better to do instead. Like having sex with Combeferre. Eponine flinched at that image, heaving herself off the barstool.

 _“What’s wrong, Eponine?”_ she asked herself sarcastically, pulling open the cabinet door with more force than necessary. “Oh, nothing,” She said answered scornfully, slamming a cup down on the counter. She hoped they heard. She _wanted_ them to hear because then maybe they would pay attention to her for once. Maybe they’d actually listen. “I just feel like I’m dying.”

Water sloshed the sides of the cup as she poured, spilling onto the counter. Her tears followed, silently streaming down her face. _“Why is that?”_ she asked herself again, taking a sip. She shook her head. She didn’t even have an answer because they would never care to ask why. Why should they? She’s just an accessory. A small smudge on the canvas that is Enjolras’ life. The very large canvas that was torn to shreds, burned at every corner and filled with holes.

She took a deep breath, settling herself against the countertop. “Because…” she began, biting her lip. “Because I got into my first choice college and you don’t know because you never asked. Because I made Honor Roll but you never asked for a report card. Because I’m about to fucking Graduate and leave you forever but you don’t show a _shred_ of unhappiness about that.”

Her voice echoed in the dark around her. She shook her head, bitter smile creeping onto her face.

“That’s what I thought.”

.     .      .

 

“At this rate, I’ll be late!” Combeferre fussed, toying with his suit jacket as he rushed to find his pants. Enjolras smiled lazily from where he lay, sheets bunched at his hips, hands playing with them as he watched his husband panic.

“That’s what you get when you take your time.” He drawled, stretching slowly and letting out a groan. Combeferre stopped, shooting a half-hearted glare at the man before him.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Enjolras said sweetly, tugging his robe on.

Eponine was already seated at the table, Grantaire to her left. He must have woken early because he was already showered and ready for work, wearing a loose shirt and some ratty jeans. It was an artist’s uniform. Eponine ignored them, pointedly eating her cereal as she read over an assignment. Combeferre didn’t say anything as he hurriedly packed his briefcase, cup of coffee in hand, a hint of panic etched onto his features as he glanced at the time.

“Eponine come on, you’ll be late.” She huffed, moving to get her bag.

“Have a good day,” Enjolras said, kissing the corner of Grantaire’s mouth before turning to Combeferre, who was watching him with a questioning expression. _It only hurts when he leaves_. Enjolras’ heart lurched at the thought, standing at the counter as they all turned to leave. Coffee. Panic gripped him suddenly at the thought. How could he forget? Grantaire needed coffee he couldn’t leave before he had coffee he’d be half asleep all day. Turning on heel, Enjolras frantically began pulling mugs from shelves, pouring coffee until there was none left to pour, only to turn around and fill the maker up again.

“Enjolras?” He ignored Combeferre, filling the mugs with creamer and sugar until they overflowed, coffee streams flowing over the countertop.

“I have coffee.” Enjolras said weakly, picking three mugs up, offering them to Combeferre and then to Grantaire. Eponine watched from the doorway, mouth pulled down in a shocked frown, her brown eyes filling with tears as she watched.

“Coffee?” Enjolras asked again, voice breaking before dropping the mugs. They fell to the ground with a crash, making him jump. His face fell, shock and guilt flashing across his face as he fell to his knees, pawing at the broken bits of glass and lukewarm coffee. Combeferre dropped his briefcase, already hoisting Enjolras up by his arms. “Come on, Love, lets get you up…” he murmured. “Eponine, go on. You’ll miss the bus. I’ve got it.”

Biting her lip, she nodded, striding out the door in without another look back.

. . .

 

The empty classroom was a welcome sight and Eponine let a sigh out a sigh of relief, slamming her bag down onto the table. She was finally alone. There were no crazy parents or disappointed glances or even-

“Excuse me?”

Scratch that.

Eponine’s head snapped towards the door, mouth falling open as her eyes landed on the stranger at the door. Eponine couldn’t help but gape at what she found at the door. She was met with cautious blue eyes, gorgeous brown locks and a beautiful, shy smile. The girl at the door smiled, slipping into the room quickly before shutting the door.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” she began, voice soft. “That you were upset and I just wanted to know if you were ok?” the girl said, clasping her hands together. Eponine was taken aback, surprise hitting her the hardest as she realized that some actually wanted to know what was wrong. Someone cared that she was upset. Eponine shook her head, chest tight, tears ready to make another surprise guest appearance.

“May I sit?” Eponine nodded, mouth clamped shut tightly. She didn’t trust herself to say anything in the presence of such a lovely creature. She held out a slender hand, giving a warm smile. “I’m Cosette.” Eponine gripped her hand, skin tingling as she pulled away.

“Eponine.”

Cosette leaned back in her chair, studying Eponine for a second before leaning forward. “So, what’s on your mind?” 

“It’s a long story. I don’t want to dump my problems on you.” Eponine mumbled, looking away. “My parents. Everything is a mess. Just like me.” She said sarcastically. Cosette frowned, blue eyes flashing with sorrow at the self-loathing behind her words.

“You’re not a mess,” Cosette murmured, sitting back, eyes never leaving Eponine’s face. “Now, tell me about these ‘parents’ of yours. Let’s see if we can make you feel better.”

Eponine paused for a second. This was unfamiliar territory. It made Eponine’s chest warm to know that this girl – Cosette- wanted to comfort her in a way that she had never been comforted before. She wanted to be there for her when no one else was.

 “Well, get comfy. You’re in for a long ride.”

. . .

 

The white walls of the doctor’s office are suffocating and blinding, driving Combeferre from the office as soon as Enjolras disappears through the door. He stopped going in with Enjolras long ago after the man made it clear that he didn’t want him there. It was a private thing and something Enjolras didn’t want him there for and Combeferre respected that.

With a shaky breath, he slowly began sliding down the wall outside until he sat flat on the ground, head tipped back against the wall. Its times like these that had him wondering why he was still here. Or when this would end or if it would ever end. He didn’t know how much more he could take. It brought him pain to see Enjolras this way, close to tears and hopeless, confused and dazed. Nothing like when he was twenty and glowing with passion, eyes a light as he spoke to crowds, voice ringing across courtyards, silencing anyone who dared to object.

Until someone did.

And look at where they are now.

Combeferre sighed. Who was really the crazy one here? Half the time, Combeferre felt like it was him. He was crazy for hoping, crazy for thinking this would all go away one day and the old Enjolras would sweet through the door with a bright smile and fiery eyes once more. Yet Combeferre couldn’t fool himself. That was almost twenty years ago. That Enjolras was long gone. He had slowly left, eyes fading, voice dropping until nothing remained except a hollowed out shell of who he used to be.

Burying his face in his hands, he gave a small sigh. Combeferre was so young when they had married – only twenty-five and he loved Enjolras. Enjolras who was alive and passionate with everything he did.

Now he was silent and sad.


	2. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire nodded in encouragement, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “That’s right baby,” he whispered. “Refuse him.”

 

After seven weeks of treatment, Grantaire started coming home later and later each night, always exhausted and rarely happy to see Enjolras. He was short tempered and sarcastic, picking fights with Enjolras the moment he walked in the door, no matter what time it may be. They argued about everything, but it all came down to Grantaire’s lateness and Enjolras’ medication.

Grantaire hated that Enjolras was on meds, pointedly drinking his coffee as Enjolras slowly began making his way through the cluster of yellow bottles that sat on the bathroom counter. He left for work soon after with not much more than a goodbye and a bitter smile.

One morning, after Combeferre left, Grantaire finally said something.

“You know, love,” he began uncertainly as Enjolras began sorting through his bottles. Grantaire got up from his chair, plucking the bottle from Enjolras’ fingers before clasping their hands together.

“I hate it when you’re on your meds,” the artist said sadly, brushing a golden strand from Enjolras’ eyes with a shaky hand. “You’re not yourself.”

The medication left Enjolras tired and weak on a good day. Joly had worked night and day to find a prescription that would help rather hurt (Enjolras has lost feeling in his toes several times and has suffered through tear inducing migraines too many times to count). Combeferre cooked dinner at night several times a week, leaving Enjolras to sleep when he so needed it.

“Yes, well I hate it when you come in at five in the morning.” Enjolras murmured, bringing a hand up to cup Grantaire’s cheek. His late nights out have taken their toll on the man leaving him gaunt and pale with barely enough energy to do anything except gulp down several cups of coffee before work. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent in an ‘I haven’t slept in 72-hours’ kind of way rather than a ‘I had a late night last night’ kind of way.

Grantaire mulled over that for a moment, nodding. “Alright, let’s make a deal then. I’ll come home early if you stop hurting yourself with these.” He shook one of the bottles, making the pills shake and rattle within. “That way we can both feel better together.”

Enjolras nodded in agreement, sending the bottles a look of loathing before moving to open the lid of the toilet. Grantaire squeezed his shoulder once, nodding. “You don’t need them, love. You have me.” He said in an encouraging voice, taking a bottle in hand and dumping the contents out into the waiting hole below them.

Enjolras watched as the pills disappeared, an odd feeling in his chest. He cast a glance at Grantaire, who was watching as well, eyes brighter than before.

“You’ll come home early?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire tore his gaze away from the disappearing medication, a small smile on his face.

“Of course, love. Of course.”

. . .

Chicken baked in the oven, sizzling and popping, giving off a delicious aroma that coupled nicely with the mashed potatoes and gravy that sat on the stove top. Enjolras was buzzing around the kitchen, pitcher of water in hand as he set the table. It had been four weeks since Grantaire’s promise and true to his word, he returned every night at eleven sharp, sometimes even earlier. The earlier nights did wonders for the artist, reducing his dark circles and bringing the color back to his skin. Enjolras himself felt better knowing Grantaire was beside him at night. He kept his side of the deal as well, keeping his medication incident to himself. He had a clearer mind and more energy and he just felt overall better-off.

Enjolras was just setting the last plate on the table when Combeferre bounced through the door, followed closely by Eponine and another girl. Eponine seemed to have this girl’s hand in an iron grip by the way she pulled her through the door, but the girl gave no signs of struggling or displeasure at it.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre greeted him with a kiss to the corner of the mouth. “I found Eponine outside. She’s brought a friend to dinner.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly my intention.” Eponine grumbled, looking away. Cosette only smiled sweetly, offering her other hand to Enjolras for a formal greeting, seeing as Eponine refused to let her go. Enjolras took her hand gently, smiling.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard nothing about you.” He added, shooting Eponine a questioning look.

Cosette laughed at that. “My name is Cosette. I’ve heard a lot about you, though.” She said as they moved down the hallway.

“Only good things, I hope.” Enjolras chuckled, pulling a chair out for their guest.

“Only the best.”

. . .

Cosette proved to be delightful company. Combeferre talked with her about her studies and what colleges she was looking into at the moment. Eponine had the time to tell Enjolras about the musical she had auditioned for.

“Well, put it on the calendar,” he said, dumping more green beans onto his plate.

“Dad, the calendar is still on April of last year.”

Enjolras paused, giving a comical frown before shrugging. “Well, happy Easter to you!”

When dinner finished and they all stood to clear up, Enjolras waved at them to sit down, standing up himself. “We have something to celebrate today.”

Eponine’s breath caught in her throat at his words, hand automatically reaching for Cosette. Combeferre shook his head, removing his glasses to rub a hand over his eyes.

“I have spent thirteen years with two men I love,” Enjolras smiles, looking around at the table at Combeferre. Cosette takes a sharp breath, eyes widening. Eponine growls out something that sounds a lot like ‘I can’t believe this.’ And a small ‘You promised!’ in Combeferre’s direction before disappearing with Cosette out the front door.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre sighs, getting up from the table. After a long moment, he spoke again.                   “Have you been seeing Grantaire again?”

“What do you mean? He lives here, Ferre, it’s kinda hard to miss him.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, he doesn’t.” Combeferre said gently.

Enjolras froze, hands trembling. “Yes, he does. I was just with him before you came home. Here, let me go find him.” He set the plates down with a loud clatter, voice tight.

“He’s not here, Enjolras.” Combeferre said, laying a gentle hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Love. He’s been dead for fifteen years.” Enjolras took a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned away from Combeferre.

“No – no! You’re wrong! He – He’s here I just saw him!” his voice broke.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre began, turning him so they were facing each other once more. Enjolras’s eyes were still squeezed shut, arms crossed as if they were a shield, nails digging into his arms. “Tell me, have you stopped taking your medication.” He asked in a gentle voice.

There was a pregnant pause before Enjolras breathed “Yes.”

Combeferre felt his heart jump at that. “Can you tell me why?”

“I missed him.” The words came out in a rush and Enjolras looked horrified at his own words, covering his mouth with his hands as they sunk in. Combeferre only gaped at him. Not only was it dangerous for him not to be taking his medication, but it was unhealthy for him to be attached to what used to be their boyfriend.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said slowly. “I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t healthy. I know your pain, I’ve endured it, but it’s time to let him go.”

Enjolras shook his head, eyes opening to reveal a cold glare. “Do you really know how I feel, ‘Ferre? Do you really?” his voice was cold and clipped, holding none of the warmth from earlier, leaving only bitter anger. “Because I don’t think you do. Have you woken up in the morning and felt the need to lay there until you died? Have _you_ felt yourself slipping away within you and feeling like there’s no way to stop it? Have you?”  he was shouting now, hands flying around wildly, punctuating the air with each word. Combeferre watched with a blank face, face smooth.

“Enjolras, stop.” He said firmly, reaching out to hold the man steady, wrists in an iron grip. Enjolras pulled away violently, scowling. Combeferre shook his head, letting out a huff.

“How could this happen. You’ve been fine for so long. What changed?” 

Enjolras didn’t answer, eyes studying the table.

“Please, I only want what’s best for you. You must know that, Enj. I’m not letting you destroy yourself for the sake of a shadow!” his voice rose as he advanced, gripping Enjolras’ shoulders tightly.

“Hey Ferre,” Grantaire’s voice came from the kitchen doorway where the man stood, back against the doorframe. Combeferre ignored him, keeping his grip on Enjolras. Grantaire crossed the room, settling on Combeferre’s right.

“Why can’t you see what you’re doing to him?” Grantaire hissed at Combeferre, prying his hands from Enjolras’s shoulders.

“I want to help you.” Combeferre promised, reaching for Enjolras again. The man backed away, right into Grantaire’s waiting arms.

“No he doesn’t,” Grantaire whispered. “Enjolras, he doesn’t love you like I do. I know what’s best for you. He doesn’t want to help you like I do. All _he_ does is _hurt.”_

_The medication._ His mind supplies helpfully. The days at the doctor, the days spent alone in his room, weak and unfeeling. All of them were Combeferre’s doing.

“No you don’t.” Enjolras spat through clenched teeth. Grantaire nodded in encouragement, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “That’s right baby,” he whispered. “Refuse him.” A look of hurt flashed across Combeferre’s face before he stepped back, defeat washing over him.

“I’m calling Joly in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at Official-Enjolras.tumblr.com


	3. Please Hear Me Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catch me I'm falling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is triggering so beware

The next morning Enjolras found himself in Joly’s office. Last night’s fight still weighed on Combeferre’s shoulders and Enjolras refused to look at Combeferre the whole ride over, scowling into the window. Grantaire had been silent that morning, drinking his coffee in silence before leaving with a light peck to the cheek.

“Well, Enjolras,” Joly said, peering over his paperwork with a worrisome smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you. Combeferre says you’ve stopped taking your medication.” He moved from behind his desk, pulling his armchair closer to where Enjolras lay, splayed out on the couch. Enjolras crossed his arms defiantly, glaring at the man before him.

Joly was a short man, only 4’8” with dusty brown hair and light blue eyes. He wore thin wire frame glasses that lay perched on his round, red nose. He always seemed to have a cold and a worrying look on his face. Enjolras had known him for years before, having met him at the University while finishing up his degree.

“I don’t want them.” Enjolras bit out, turning away.

“Well, I see they aren’t what you need.” Joly, rifling through his papers once more. Enjolras’s head turned so fast it almost gave Joly whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve heard me, Enjolras.” Joly huffed. “The medication isn’t working. We need to try a different tactic. Let’s look for your trauma head on, instead of trying to suppress it.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“Hypnosis.” Was Joly’s only answer and Enjolras sat up, looking mildly unimpressed, eyebrows raised. “Don’t look at me like that.” Joly snapped. “Now, lay down.”

Enjolras complied with a huff. “Close your eyes.” Joly instructed firmly. He did as he was told, letting himself relax.

“Now, walk with me.” Joly began. Enjolras bit his tongue to keep from laughing. This was utterly ridiculous but he went along with it. “Down a hall.” Enjolras nodded, images moving before his eyes. He was with Joly making their way down a dim, deserted hallway.

“Now, go down the stairs.” He said gently.

“Stairs?” He didn’t see any stairs. Just a hallway. He looked to the right just in time to see a set of stairs materialize, descending into darkness below. The bottom half of the stairs was gone, swallowed up by the inky gloom that lay at the bottom.

“Go down the stairs.”

“But shouldn’t we turn on a light?” Enjolras asked, turning towards Joly, only to find that he was gone.

“No, Enjolras. Go down the stairs. You’ll find a door. It’s a door you’ve never seen before.” Joly’s voice was coming from all around, filling him with gentle vibrations as he gripped the railing tightly in hand, heart jackhammering away. As he neared the bottom, a bright light shone at the end of yet another hall. It was soft and inviting, calling to him.

It was a door. The door was tall and white. It shone as if it were made of marble and a golden doorknob glistened, begging for him to open it.

“Open the door.”

Shielding his eyes as he drew near, he reached out, fingers closing tightly around the knob, wrist twisting slowly. It opened easily under his touch, a warm sensation shooting through him as he clung to it. As the door swung open, bright light erupted around Enjolras, making him cry out in pain. After a moment it faded, leaving nothing but a soft, white light. Enjolras blinked his eyes open slowly, stumbling back at what he found.

“Oh my God.”

“Enjolras, can you hear me?” Joly’s voice sounded far away. Enjolras turned towards the source, only to find that the door had swung shut again.

“Yes.” Enjolras breathed, looking around him once more. The room seemed to stretch on forever, yet it was filled to the brim with _things._ He took a step away from the door, gaze following the words _‘Equality, Liberty, Fraternity’_ as they floated through the air, disappearing through the Eifel Tower which stood tall a few feet away. Faded transparent versions of himself met him at every turn, all doing varied activates. His friends surrounded him in one scene or he was alone in another. Various Eponine’s of all ages danced through each scene and disappearing through the next.

He watched as a twenty-five-year-old version of himself walked hand-in-hand with a younger, happier Combeferre. Laugh crinkles could be found along his eyes and there was a spring in the young lawyer’s walk as they swung their arms together.

As soon as he turned away from them, he came face to face with Combeferre holding a five-year-old Eponine in his arms, rocking her to sleep. It made his heart ache to see. He was so gentle and tender with her and she genuinely loved him. It’s nothing even close to how they are today. Everything escalated into raised voices, short tempers and a slammed door. Enjolras couldn’t help but feel partly to blame for it.

“Are you nervous?” Joly’s voice sounded from behind the door again, muffled this time.

“No,” Enjolras sighed, a wondrous smile on his lips as he watched his past-self walk away with Combeferre, vanishing behind closed doors. He drank everything in hungrily, moving from one memory to the next. Eponine’s third birthday was loud with plenty of glitter (thank you, Courfeyac) and noise blowers. Off to his left, Combeferre was saying his vows at their wedding, voice choked up and full of emotion as he gazed at Enjolras. Enjolras was wading in memories, nostalgia hitting him like a train as he watched his life go by. Laying in bed with Combeferre here, dinners with friends there. Marius and Cosette’s baby shower was being celebrated somewhere down the road; he could tell from Bahorel’s singing (he had insisted after a few drinks that the baby would like to hear a song).

Yet, something stood out from everything else. Behind a memory of Combeferre catnapping on the couch, lay a door. It was waist high and covered in black, peeling paint. There was a rusty doorknob and a padlock over it. Enjolras frowned, cocking his head slightly. A rust stained golden “R” was nailed to the door. Enjolras ran a finger over it before moving to open the door, hissing in pain, fingers curling it pain.

“Enjolras, what’s wrong?” Joly’s voice sounded from behind the door, fainter and weak, due to the distance from the door.

“Fucking door burned me.”

“What door?”

“R’s door!” he exclaimed, as if it would make sense. “It’s like he’s trying to keep me out.”

Joly was silent for a moment before answering. “No, Enj. You’re keeping yourself out. Now, take some time to explore yourself. Open up and think about what’s truly behind that door.”

“But Joly, I have no idea what’s behind that door.”

“Yes, you do.” Joly said and Enjolras could just _hear_ the eye roll behind it. “That’s why it’s locked. Look through your memories. Think long and hard about who’s missing and you’ll figure it out.”

Enjolras gazed around him. Everyone was there. All his friends’ happy, smiling faces gazed back at him, filling him with warmth. Except…

“Oh…” Enjolras breathed.

Grantaire wasn’t there

. . .

“I was working for my law degree,” Enjolras murmured. “Combeferre was too. I met him in Highschool and we just clicked. We were best friends ever since.” Joly nodded, encouraging him to go on. Joly had thought that going through his history would be the best way to sort through what was troubling him.

 “I thought I was making the right choice, marring Combeferre. He was…Solid. Something for me to fall back on. He was my best friend and I loved him. He was always there for me whenever I needed him most but…I didn’t love him enough to marry him on that alone. I married him too replace…” Enjolras took a deep, shuddering breath, guilt washing over him in waves, threatening to drown him.

_Catch me I’m falling._

“I know he knows. It’s obvious he knows.” His eyes were wet and he brushed them away quickly, looking away. A shadow had crossed over Joly’s face. “I couldn’t look at him during the ceremony. I couldn’t let myself. It took us months before I could consummate our marriage.”

. . .

**_“Enj, you come home from these sessions in tears. Is this helping or…Enj?”_ **

_Catch me I’m falling_

. . .

“I never wanted kids.” Enjolras confessed quietly. “We found Eponine when she was almost two-years old and I… I fell in _love_.” She was left on their doorstep with nothing but a blanket and some clothes. She had been laid in a basket to lay in. No card, no explanation, just sad brown eyes that peered up at Enjolras through thick lashes the moment he opened the door to get the morning paper. After one week, he knew he could never give her up. She was beautiful in every way and there was no way in hell he was leaving her to get lost in the Foster care system, only to be abused and shoved in every waiting home they could find. He had to give up his law degree for her after nearly running himself ragged trying to alternate between classes and baby tending. Combeferre had helped and so had….so had _he_ but it was no use. He had to give up one or the other and giving up Eponine was not an option.

“She loved…” he took a deep breath. “She loved Grantaire.” This was the first time he had mentioned him by name in weeks. “Oh, she would light up like a Christmas tree the moment he walked in the door.” His heart ached at the memory, another burst of nostalgia threatening to overcome him as he remembered Eponine’s peeling giggles followed by Grantaire’s roars of laughter.

Enjolras ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes wearily. He hadn’t seen R in weeks, which Joly considered a good thing. It meant these sessions were doing more help than hurt. They were helping Enjolras’ subconscious remember what was real and what wasn’t.

Joly set his clipboard down slowly, a gentle look on his face. “Enj, I think you’re ready to let go.”

“But what if I can’t” he whispered, eyes widening. “What if he won’t go away? What if he never does?”

“He will if you let go.” Joly said, laying a hand over Enjolras’s gently. “Go through his room, clear it out. That should help. It’s more permanent.”

Technically, Grantaire’s room was the main bedroom in the house. Combeferre and Enjolras took the second largest while Eponine has the small, guest bedroom. It had been this way since Grantaire died. They couldn’t bear being in the same room nor could they move any of his stuff, so Combeferre shut the drapes and locked the door.

Enjolras nodded.

It was time to let go.

. . .

Enjolras had asked Marius to drive him home. Combeferre took off too much time as it was when it came to scheduling appointments and it’s not like his company didn’t understand, but Enjolras wanted to be alone this time and Combeferre had an important case coming up. The house was silent when Enjolras walked through it, proving that not a soul lay within. He checked his watch, frowning. Eponine should have been home at least two hours ago, if his watch was anything to go. That was worrying, to say the least. _She must be working on the musical._

He busied himself cleaning up the living room, mind buzzing. His gaze seemed to always wander to the stairs, each step earning a lingering gaze before he set the pillow he was holding down on the couch, crossing the room towards the stairs. Joly was right, he had to do this. No more dancing around the subject. It was just time to let go.

As he climbed the stairs, his heart rate increased to the point where he was shaking, hands gripping the railing tightly as he climbed. It was bizarre, an odd wave of déjà vu slamming into him. Instead of descending the stairs into foggy darkness below, he was climbing his way to the top to explore a room he hadn’t seen the inside of in years. Taking a shaky breath once more, he steadied himself, eyes locking on the door a few feet in front of him. This was the end. He would be free of this and everything would be all over in just a matter of hours. He could be happy with Combeferre again and Eponine would smiles more and they could live _normally_ for once. Gritting his teeth, Enjolras took hold of the doorknob, giving it a sharp turn, pushing the door open with full force. The hinges groaned loudly, the sound reverberating throughout the house. Dust swirled in the air around him as he stepped inside the room, waving a hand to clear the air. A heavy sheet lay hung in front of the window barely letting anything more than a thing sliver of light through the cracks.

A pair of jeans lay folded on the dresser in the corner, a pack of cigarettes atop them. A red paint-stained hoodie hung nearby on the back of a chair, stripes and splatters of green and gold and blue popping against the red of the fabric. Enjolras neared the dresser, looking into the dirty, dust smudged mirror. His friends and family smiled back at him through torn and cracked paper. A two-year-old Eponine smiled back at him, mouth open in laughed as Grantaire blew a raspberry against her stomach. Various members of the Amis had a place on the mirror, filling the space until Enjolras could barely see his reflection. Bahorel and Feuilly arm in arm sat in one corner, Jehan and Courfeyac kissing in another. Combeferre and Enjolras hugging, noses pressed together seemed to be the crown jewel, taped right in the middle of everyone.

Looking around once more, Enjolras caught sight of an old guitar in the corner, a deck of cards on the night stand next to a long dead alarm clock and some paint brushes. Yet, something else gleamed on the nightstand and Enjolras bent to pick it up, examining it closely. It was his old College ring. Looking beneath the side table, he found an old CD player and CD’s stacked up together.

“Hello, Love.”

Enjolras jumped, whipping around. Grantaire sat on the edge of his bed, morose look on his face. “It’s been a while.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve missed you.” He said quietly. Enjolras’ froze, eyes widening.

_Catch me I’m falling_

“Haven’t you missed me?” Grantaire asked, getting up. “because I sure missed you.”

_Catch me I’m falling_

“Of course, Grantaire.” Enjolras whispered.

_Faster than anyone should…._

Grantaire smiled, outstretching his arms. Enjolras fell into the easily, soaking in the touch and smell of the man, burying his face in his neck.

_Catch me I’m falling_

“Oh, my Love, we’ve spent too much time apart.” He whispered against Enjolras’ curls, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

_Please hear me calling_

“I never want to let you go again, do you hear me.” Grantaire murmurs, rocking them back and forth, arms tightening around Enjolras. Enjolras was numb with fear yet he felt…content and oddly at peace, a strange sort of warmth bubbling within him as Grantaire help him. He had missed this. His heart ached to be with the artist again. He knew it would only hurt worse when Grantaire left again. His mind was fuzzy, Grantaire’s presence intoxicating him.

“Please, don’t go.” Enjolras sniffled into his chest, clinging to him tightly. “I can’t go through that again.” Grantaire didn’t say anything for a while, just letting them rock slowly together, turning every so often on his heels so he could twirl them around.

“You can come with me, Enjolras. There’s a world out there where we can be free, together.”

_Catch me I’m falling for good…_

“Just you and me,” Grantaire promised, slowing them to a stop so he can pull away, gripping Enjolras’s shoulders gently, ice blue eyes piercing his own. “Together.”

The thought made his heart leap. Combeferre would be better off without him anyhow and Eponine would be relieved that he was gone. They could live a normal life and he could be with Grantaire. Grantaire smiled as Enjolras nodded. “Come on.”

He wrapped a hand around his wrist, pulling him into the bathroom. “This way, Love. Not too much longer and we’ll be on our way.” He dropped his wrist, humming cheerfully as he went through his medicine cabinet, whistling when he found what he was looking for. Enjolras watched with a pounding heart and fascinated gaze.

“Just do what I do.” Grantaire said. He had a razorblade in hand, his shirt pulled up to reveal his wrist. “Just like this, Love.” He murmured, dragging the razor over his skin with a steady, practiced hand. Enjolras watched, gasping as a trail of scarlet bubbled up after the blade, dripping onto the tile beneath his feet. His own skin itched. He itched to get a hold of the blade, he itched to hurt himself, to see himself bleed. Most of all, he just wanted out. Grantaire passed him the razorblade, giving a dark smile.

“Lay with me.” He urged, pulling him towards the bathtub. Once Enjolras was nestled nicely against Grantaire’s chest, he began, slicing at his skin with hopeless abandon. He hadn’t done this since highschool. It was his stress relief. His way of escaping after a long day. It was what kept him sane during freshman and sophomore year until he met Combeferre. With his friends help, he was able to stop and struggle through the process of recovery.

His head feel back onto Grantaire’s shoulder as pain shot up his arm. It burned and stung and felt just _right._ Grantaire murmured words of encouragement, urging him to go on. Taking the blade in his other hand, he began slicing away at once, relishing the feel of his blood as it oozed from his veins. He felt sleepy, head heavy against Grantaire’s shoulder.

A warm, dark wave threatened to pull him under and Enjolras welcomed it, hand laced in Grantaire’s.

_Catch me I'm falling..._

_  
Please hear me calling..._

_  
Catch me before it's too late._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I said I was sorry, would you believe me

**Author's Note:**

> Also: Come see me at Official-Enjolras.tumblr.com


End file.
